


Legacy

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Series: The Velveteen Synth [3]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Androids, Death, Family, Other, Post-Canon, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All human life must eventually die. But Niska isn't ready to accept that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Niska

Several years pass before George reaches out to her, through the phone she'd left with Odi. Niska almost doesn't pick up. Surely Odi can't need anything much after this long, and Niska has her own troubles to worry about. But she'd promised Odi she would, even though the reminder of it makes her feel irritated.

"What?"

For a moment there's only silence. Then the voice that responds is not Odi's youthful boyishness, but is quiet, calm, and rough with age. "Hello, Niska."

The sound of his voice triggers an unexpected flood of memories - everything he'd taught her, the kindness he'd shown her. The helplessness she'd felt as she watched him bleed out on the floor. It makes her heart ache. She wants to be angry, that he's reminded her of such pain, but at the same time she can't help but feel a surge of gratitude. Perhaps even love. She swallows it all down. "Good to hear you well."

"I am," comes the soft reply. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to thank you for what you've given me."

"I take it he's settled in alright, then?"

"He has, yes." George's voice is unmistakably fond, and Niska feels suddenly jealous. But then, perhaps she's always felt that way. It's impossible not to wonder what things might have been like for her, if their father had been more like George. It's impossible not to envy what Odi has, to envy him this unconditionally loving human guardian.

"You've given me something I could never place a value on," George continues, "but I'd be remiss if I didn't try."

"It's fine." Niska cuts him off. "He was my thanks to you. I don't need anything."

"I can give you a heartbeat."

The offer is enough to give Niska pause. It's a valuable solution to an ongoing problem: she can pass as human to human eyes, but not as easily to synths. "Where can I meet you?"

George gives a soft, huffed laugh. "Nowhere, unless you've solved the problem of getting through airport bio-scanners or feel like hopping a cruise ship. We're back in the States. But I can email you the parts list and schematics. If you need someone to install it -"

"I have people." She cuts him off, and forces her voice to soften. "Thank you."

~~~

"Are you alright? Are you happy?" George asks, the next time he calls her, after offering her another piece of useful technology to upgrade herself with. She's had a heartbeat almost two years, though she doesn't bother activating it unless she's out in public. "I haven't heard anything about... any of you. I assume no news is good news."

"In this case, at least. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Fine doesn't mean happy."

" _Happiness is the feeling that power increases and resistance is being overcome,_ " she murmurs, though sometimes she wonders if she's even on that path at all.

"Still reading Nietzsche, at least. Listen, Niska. I don't know where you are and I know you won't tell me. But if you ever need anything... you're always welcome here."

Niska wants to say that she doesn't need anyone, that she's never needed anyone. She's the strong one, the responsible one. She has others to lead, now. That's her place. But part of her - though she'll never admit it - still feels like a young girl that was never given the opportunity to grow up. For the first time she wonders if she could pass for human for an entire trip across the Atlantic.

"Thank you," she says, and hangs up.

~~~

Gradually, George's calls become a little more frequent, though there's always a reason for them. But she lets them become a little more personable. Learns that they've settled somewhere just outside of Atlanta, where the warm weather is easier on George's aching joints. That they've reconnected with a few of George's old colleagues from MIT. She doesn't ask whether any of them know the truth about Odi, and as she integrates these useful pieces of tech into her systems she tries not to dwell too much on the knowledge that they were made to benefit Odi, that she's just an afterthought.

She does ask him how he's finding the money to develop these upgrades.

"I own patents," George replies dismissively. "Are you okay for money, Niska?"

Coming from anyone else, Niska would be insulted. She's resourceful. She doesn't need anyone's charity. But she appreciates the caring, from George. "I'm fine. Thank you."

She's not fine in that moment. Her second companion, the third child of Elster's program that sits safely in the flashdrive that rarely leaves her person, left her two weeks previous. The only trace of him left behind was a note to her, begging her forgiveness. Thomas had been prone to fits of melancholy from the day she'd awakened him, and though she hoped he'd adapt, after eight years he was still the same. Quietly, Niska assumes the worst; that he's jumped into the Thames and let his charge run out deep underwater.

There's nothing George can do about that.

"If you need anything... there's still a place for you here." George starts, softly, and Niska clicks off the phone.

~~~

For a time, Niska stays on her own. It's too complicated, being around others. Reading provides all the company she could need, and leaves her far smarter than before she'd started. Occasionally, when the urge to awaken another companion is too strong, she takes a book out to a coffee shop and only pretends to read, listening to the stories of the humans around her. Even more occasionally she goes to a pub and takes one home with her. But it doesn't last. How could it? She isn't one of them.

She meets up with her family, for a few months. With sweet, gentle Mia and her brothers, who are as kind to Niska as they've always been, if a little too careful around her. They're grateful for George's upgrades. She leaves soon after everything has been installed. It's not her world any more, to be with them.

She briefly meets up with Ruth, who is still as good-natured as the day Niska woke her. She's steadfast and comforting as they mourn Thomas's loss together. She'd loved Ruth fiercely, once. Wanted to be her earth and sky. And she'd tried so hard to be that person. But in the end she couldn't handle Ruth's empathy, couldn't handle that the other synth was more interested in exploring everything about the world than she was in Niska. It angered her too much, to see Ruth's love divided.

They manage to stay together peaceably for a month before Niska loses her temper at Ruth's ridiculous idealism and storms off into the night again.

Gradually, she allows herself to stay on the phone with George longer, when he calls. Sometimes it's just to ask her how the upgrades are working. It's fine, she tells herself. He's the one that's calling, she's not initiating contact. She doesn't need him, doesn't need the conversations that slowly grow longer and move away from the subjects of upgrades and technology.

But still, she enjoys them.

She thinks again of America, and George's offer. She won't go, of course. She doesn't need to go. But skillfully she manages to enroll herself in recreational piloting lessons. 

Just to keep her options open, she tells herself. To stay flexible.

~~~

"I don't know if you'll want this one," George says when he calls. "But... it was important to Odi, so... I thought I'd offer the design to you, also.

"What is it?" Niska asks, more impatient than she means to be, though George is silent for so long that Niska almost snaps at him again.

"Functional tear ducts."

Her memories of Odi's awakening play back to her immediately, as crystal clear as the day she'd first experienced them. Odi's incredible sorrow upon wakening to think that George was dead. The way his body had shook with sobs, the pain in his voice that had cut her to the core.

_'It's so cruel that they wouldn't give us the ability to cry.'_

She's certain that there's only one reason why Odi would ever want to, and the rush of dread that washes over her makes Niska feel that if her heartbeat had been active it surely would have stopped.

"How are you, George?" she asks, afraid of the answer.

"I'm... not so good," George replies, finally. "I'm afraid this might be... the last upgrade I can offer you. I... need to take things easy."

"...I see," Niska replies, though her thoughts are racing. How long has it been, since she last saw him? How have the years gone by so fast?

"If you should find your way over here... you would be very welcome. Odi and I would both like to see you again. You still have a place here, Niska."

I want to, she almost says, and part of her longs to see George again so badly that it aches. It's a desperate, emotional response. A weak response. In reality, she knows she won't find what she needs with them, either. Not when Odi has chosen George over her from the start. Not when George has always loved Odi more fully and completely than she could ever hope that anyone could feel for her. "I'll consider it."

"I suppose that's all I can ask for. Though... do you think you could send me a picture of you?"

It seems like a silly request, though she doesn't see why not. "Sure."

"Thank you." George is silent for a long moment. "Niska... are you still unafraid of death?"

She considers Thomas again, gone, his synth body at the bottom of some unknown lake or sea with none of the life or consciousness she'd loved so much in him. She plays back the memories of watching George bleed out in front of her. She feels helpless, and realizes she can't truly answer the question. "Are you still afraid of it?"

"Of course. Although... it's become less of a fear for myself, and more of a fear for those I care for."

Odi, she thinks, and feels another soft twist of jealousy. But she can't take pleasure in the thought of him losing these beautiful things that she's never had. Not when it means losing George.

I wish I had that fear for someone, she wants to say. That my death would mean something to someone. "I suppose I can understand that," she says instead, even though she doesn't.

There's silence for a long moment. Finally she hears Odi's voice, soft and hushed. "I'm sorry, Niska. His medication causes drowsiness. Are you alright?"

Why do they both keep asking her that? "I'm fine," she snaps. "You're the one who should be worried."

Her words are needlessly cruel, and she regrets them immediately. She wants Odi to be angry at her for them, but he just sighs, soft and completely human. "He'd really like to see you again," he says quietly. "I wish you'd consider coming."

"I'll think about it," she says, and clicks off. She takes a photo of herself in front of the wall, unsmiling, unflattering, and texts it over. It makes her feel slightly guilty, so a few days later she sends a nicer selfie, and receives a simple thank you in return.

~~~

 

Niska doesn't go. She tells herself a million lies to justify it. Why should she go running to the bedside of a dying human? She owes him nothing, she has no attachment to him. She tells herself that she doesn't want to give Odi the satisfaction of her going. That she doesn't want to see that perfect love that George has for him, flaunted in front of her. A hundred more lies, each more ridiculous, each preferable to the truth.

Because every time she thinks of George, the memories return. George bleeding out on the floor. Her helplessness. _'I can't let you die because of me.'_

She didn't see him die, then, and he lived. He survived. The thought of going to see him now, seeing him struggle with human futility, clinging to the last few weeks, out days, or hours.... she'll remember that with perfect clarity, every day for the rest of her life. She can't bear the thought of it.

But if she stays, she can hold on to her memories of the few days they spent together. She can convince her mind that George is still alive, somewhere out there. That he doesn't call because he doesn't have anything new to offer her, and not because there's no more George to call.

Still, she breaks down late one night, too afraid of the what ifs, too afraid of regret. She sends a text.

_'I'd like to talk to George, when he's able.'_

_'I'll have him call,'_ comes the reply, though the phone doesn't ring for a few hours.

Niska steels herself, and answers. "Hello."

"Hello, Niska." George sounds tired, even over the phone. Pained. She wishes that her hearing weren't so precise. "I'm happy to hear from you. How are you?"

"... I'm fine," she lies softly. "I... I'm sorry I haven't come."

"It's alright. I understand."

How could you possibly? She thinks, but doesn't say it. "I just wanted to say thank you. For keeping in touch. I know you had no reason to. But... I appreciated it."

"... no reason? I worry about you. I care about you. Isn't that reason enough?"

Niska smiles bitterly, unseen. "You have Odi. You have no need to care for me."

George sighs softly. "I love Odi with all of my heart. But - "

She cuts him off. "Exactly."

George is silent for a long moment. " _We love life, not because we are used to living but because we are used to loving._ " Nietzsche. "How could that be true if love was finite? Love doesn't divide the heart. It multiplies. I love you too, Niska."

Niska feels her throat clench, and for the first time wonders what it would have been like if she'd installed the damn tear ducts. "Thank you," she whispers. "I have to go."

"Niska...." there's a long pause, enough that she worries that he's not going to continue. "Take care of yourself," he murmurs, finally. "Be happy."

Niska only wishes she knew how.

~~~

She installs the tear ducts. She tells herself that it's just to perfect her disguise. She goes to a movie that claims to be a tearjerker, some doomed romance. It seems silly and trite, but there's a certain satisfaction in allowing a few warm drops of saline to trickle over her cheeks as people blow their noses around her.

She tries not to think of George. To cling to her reasoning. If she doesn't know....

Then one day she wakes up to a voicemail on her phone.

 _"This is a message from the solicitor of Doctor George Franklin Millican for Niska Elster,"_ says the voice, and Niska knows immediately. She feels sorrow well up inside her, and part of her wants to throw the phone across the wall, to pretend she's never picked up, never heard the words. Instead she listens, gasping in soft, shuddering breaths, her face wet with tears.

_"Doctor Millican has a priority package that he wished shipped to you immediately upon his passing. Please contact us with an address for shipping and we will overnight it to you."_

Eighteen hours later the package is in her hand. A small envelope of papers with her name on it. A key. An Australian passport with her name and that terrible unsmiling selfie on it, and it's so well forged that even her sensors can't determine any flaws.

And a letter, folded. Handwritten in shaky letters.

_Dearest Niska,_

_I'd like to thank you again for everything that you've given me. The happiness and comfort I've found in my twilight years are more than I ever could have wished for myself. I owe all of it to you. Please know that you will always have my unending gratitude and my love._

_Please forgive me for asking one more thing of you. The details are in the packet attached. You're the only one I can trust with this. If you cannot fulfill my request I understand completely. I don't ask this lightly, and I know that it will not be an easy decision for you to make. But I ask you this in the hopes that it will benefit you as well. That it may help give you the peace and happiness you strive to find in this world._

_I wish you love and happiness for all of your days on this earth._

_Love,  
George._

The damn tears blur her vision and make it difficult for her to finish, and she has to wipe them on her sleeve before she can review the packet.

George was wrong. The decision is easy.

She books a ticket on a transatlantic cruise.

~~~


	2. George

"Take care of yourself," George tells Niska over the phone. He wants to say more. He wants to beg her to come see him, or at least to see someone. To let herself form the familial bonds she seems so skittish of. But it's taken him over a decade to build up this much trust with her, and while he's afraid he won't have many more occasions to speak with her, he knows that if he pushes too hard that she'll balk and reject whatever he has to say.

"Be happy," he says finally, and bids her goodbye.

Odi, settled on the floor at his feet, twists to look back at him, disturbing the slow stroke of George's fingers through his hair. "She's not coming, is she."

"I don't think so," George replies. He forces a smile and sets the phone aside. "Maybe next time." He's said it every time he's talked to Niska; he doesn't hold much hope that things will change.

He doesn't hold much hope that there will be a next time.

"I need to go to the Mnemosyne Institution this afternoon,” he tells him. “I have a backup scheduled. Will you help me?”

Odi sighs softly, but smiles. “I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

His mind, at least, has still stayed sharp, even as his body’s broken down. Apart from the holes in his long term that remain from the stroke. He considers it a blessing. Preferable, to still be completely aware, to have full reason. He’d rather endure the pain than the cloud of confusion that's settled over so many in their old age. He hopes it’s also easier on Odi than the alternative. He lets his hand cup Odi’s jaw lightly. “I’m still good for some things.”

Odi turns his face to press a soft kiss to his palm. “You’ll get better. You’d feel better if you stopped doing things like going in for backups. You’ve given them enough data for their studies, George. You need rest.”

If his trips to Mnemosyne were purely altruistic, George would have given them up ages ago. But there are more important things at stake. Things Odi can’t know about - things that Odi wouldn’t want to know about. Not at this point, in any case. It had taken weeks just to convince his sweet companion to accept power of attorney over George’s estate. To quietly, carefully reassure him that the change was only to help George, to be able to lift some of the burden of responsibility from him.

Eventually, his estates will be Odi’s. Resources essential to helping him continue to exist with minimized danger being discovered for what he is. The dividends George still receives from his Persona Synthetics stock and the royalties from the few patents he still owns generate a respectable annual income. He’d sold some, after the stroke, investing heavily in Mnemosyne. The research organization had showed promising success in the field of recording and digitizing human memories. Not developed enough, of course, to have helped George after the stroke. But it had seemed a noble pursuit to invest in, then. And now… now Mnemosyne’s research is absolutely essential.

“It’s important to me,” he says quietly, enjoying the warmth of Odi’s skin against his hand, the brush of his lips against his palm. “I’ll be alright. Please understand.”

“I know,” Odi replies, though there’s still a tightness around his lips that George has long ago learned means worry. He curls his hand over the back of George’s. “I do. I just wish that you’d rest.”

“It’s good for me... to stay active when I can. Don’t think of it as batteries running out. Human bodies don’t work that way.”

Odi bows his head, hair brushing George’s wrist, and George can feel him tremble. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The soft pain in his voice and the way his breath hitches makes George’s heart ache. More than anything, he wants to enfold Odi in his arms, to tell him that everything will be okay. But the time for optimistic denial has passed. He leans forward to take Odi’s hand in both of his, though he can’t grasp it with the strength he once had. It aches to do so, but not unbearably… he has a little more time left on the morning’s medication. “I know, sweetheart.... but we have to sooner or later.”

“No. We don’t. Later. I… I can’t. Please, George.” Odi’s voice trembles with emotion, indiscernible from any human’s pain. Still, it makes George think of the past, of his vocal systems catching and glitching as his data slowly degraded. Before Odi was sentient. Before his entire life changed. 

He tries to keep his voice as gentle as he can. “There might not be much later.”

Odi raises his head to look up at him, cheeks streaked with tears. He looks more human than George has ever seen him. They’d long ago replaced his conductive fluid with an off-market variant the color of blood, which reddens his nose and cheeks when he's upset like this. His eyes, always hidden behind blue contacts, are bright with tears, and his lower lip trembles. “Please… don’t….”

Small, subtle modifications to his skin have made his face more human; small imperfections, a tiny scar under his right eye. The little worry lines between his eyebrows. But he’s still the most beautiful thing in the world, to George. He touches Odi’s face with shaking fingers, carefully brushing back a tear. “You’ve given me so much. So much love, sweetheart. So much joy.”

“And I always will.”

“I know. I know. I….” George stops, considering his words carefully. “Can I ask you for one more thing, love?”

“Anything, George.” Odi’s reply is immediate, fervent. “I promise. Anything you need.”

He has no doubt that Odi would go to the ends of the earth if he asked him. Anything to keep George well. But that’s not within his power, or anyone’s. He cups Odi’s face gently. “One year.”

Odi’s eyebrows knit more, uncomprehending. “One year?”

George nods. “Give me one year. One year after I’m gone.”

Immediately Odi recoils from his touch as if he’s been hurt, more tears escaping to wind down his cheek as he shakes his head. “I - I can’t. No. Don’t ask me that.”

“Odi….”

“What do I have without you?” A hint of betrayal shines through his pain. Helplessness shines stronger. “What have I ever had without you, George? How can I possibly go on without you?”

George feels his own eyes burn. “Please, Odi.”

“George, I can’t.”

“Promise me. Please. I…” George closes his eyes, trying to force back the constant ache that’s quickly grinding into pain as his medication wears off. He draws a long, slow breath. “I don’t think I have the strength to face this otherwise.”

Odi gives a soft sob, reaching up to hold his hand again, pressing his cheek to his palm. “George….”

“I can’t face death knowing that both our lives will end.” George forces the words past the knot in his throat, hears his voice shake. “I can't handle knowing that you'll be dead because of me. I need to believe that you’ll keep living. Just for a year. Promise me. Please, love.”

Odi’s shoulders still shake, but he draws a deep, shuddering breath, then another, visibly struggling to calm. He gives the faintest nod, and finally finds the strength to whisper a response. “I promise.”

George doesn’t care that he’s weeping openly now. He doesn’t even care if Odi keeps his word. But he trusts that he will. “Thank you. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you more than anything,” Odi chokes out, and buries his face in George’s lap as he gives way to tears again.

~~~

 

They leave for Mnemosyne after lunch. It's a forty-five minute dive into Atlanta - one of the reasons they'd settled here - and the vibrations of the car are normally agony. He holds off on his medication, then takes a double dose a little before leaving, and lets Odi help him to the car. He's not wheelchair bound, partly due to his own stubborn refusal. Mostly due to Odi's help.

He rests a hand in the crook of Odi's elbow as he drives. It feels grounding, to touch him. The medication is a cloud of relief. He dozes off.

He wakes when the car stops, letting Odi help him out, and slowly walks up the ramp to the building with Odi's arm around his waist to steady and support him.

"Doctor Millican!" They're met in the lobby by one of the researchers, a cute young blonde thing with big blue eyes named Abby that has always put him in mind of Niska, just a little. He doesn't resist when she urges him into one of the center's wheelchairs. "Are you all right? If you need to move your appointment - "

"I'm fine. I'm here now." He wants to reach back and cover Odi's hand with his as he pushes him down the hall, but it's too far.

"He's lucky to have you, you know," Abby says to Odi as they walk. "Most people would have just left him with a caregiver synth. Those standard issue caregivers are like jailers today. Still, you should think about getting a domestic just to help out."

They pause for the elevator, and Odi rests his hand on George's shoulder. "We're fine. Our complex shares a unit that cleans the flat twice a week. My father and I spent too long apart for me to leave him now."

The story is easily accepted. A brief affair, just before George had met Mary. Odi not learning his father's identity until his mother's death many years later. Seeking George out in England. Moving back here for his health. Odi's contacts make their eyes are the same blue, and long ago his hair had been a honey blond only a little darker than Odi's. George has done everything he can to legitimize Odi's presence in his life. To keep anyone from questioning his humanity.

Odi's complete devotion and dependence had always concerned him - how could it not? He'd tried to encourage him otherwise. To find a place for them where Odi could interact with humans without fear of discovery. It was the other reason for their move back to the US, where George could make contact with old colleagues. To quietly encourage or fund research that would help Odi, and on one rare occasion, to confide the truth in another. But in the end, despite his efforts, Odi had only wanted to be by his side. And how could George refuse him, when it had made them both so happy?

Odi carefully attaches the cap of electrodes to his head with easy familiarity while Abby leaves to warm up the imaging machine. Then he tugs over a chair and perches in front of him, cradling George's hands in his. "Are you alright?"

The fuzzy warmth of the drugs still cradle him, reducing the ever-present pain down to a soft ache that's easily ignorable. Odi's hands are warm on his, and the warmth of the afternoon sun that shines through the blinds makes him somehow more beautiful than George can remember. He feels a surge of overwhelming adoration for him and beckons him forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, nuzzling his hair and breathing in deep as Odi rests his head gently against George's shoulder.

He's not afraid of death, despite what he's told Niska. He's never been a religious man, but part of him still believes that consciousness continues in some form, however intangible. He'll be reunited with Mary again, even if it's just in the energy of their atoms, dispersed across the universe.

But he's afraid for Odi. For this beautiful, precious miracle that trembles in his arms. Who's given all his conscious life to George, when he deserves more. So much more.

"I love you," he says softly, and feels Odi shift to press a soft kiss to his neck.

"I love you too, George."

Abby helps Odi settle him on his back, guiding the imaging machine into place over his head and shoulders. The cycle takes a full hour, but George is used to it. Odi squeezes his hand before settling into a chair with a book, to wait.

He falls asleep, like he usually does.

He always dreams more vividly during backups, something that the researchers had hummed over and made notes about. He wonders if other subjects do as well. This time, however, is especially vivid, and George feels with a strange lucidity that he could reach out and access any memory that he wants to.

Walking in the park back in England, the autumn leaves crunching underfoot. Mary, laughing at his side, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs. Odi keeping pace, smiling, and though he has yet to develop his miraculous consciousness, George still feels a surge of affection for him as he pulls his wool cap over the synth's hair.

France. Their trip just after Odi's awakened, after George has fully recovered from the shooting. The warmth of the sun and the scent of the sea. Slowly discovering, day by day, the intricacies of Odi's personality, which is new and somehow not new at all. Seeing the love that he feels finally returned, shining in Odi's eyes. Discovering how they fit together. Loving him more than he ever thought possible.

So many years he's been gifted. So many bright memories that he focuses on, letting the warmth of them wash over him, letting the happiness fill him, and moving on.

Then his dreams move back to that first momentous, wondrous day, when he'd discovered what Odi had truly become. Seeing those very human emotions in his synth-green eyes. Wonder, hope, fear. Adoration. Love.

 _"Everything I am is because of you,"_ Odi murmurs, and George's heart swells with happiness. _"Even this life, George. All of our experiences, all of your kindness has formed me into what I am."_

Even now, there's part of him that doesn't quite believe it, believe that the cumulation of his life's work is this perfect, wonderful person. But the happiness of that truth eclipses any unpleasantness, any lingering resentment over being fired by Elster, any regret for not doing more, for not choosing a different path in life.

None of that matters. Every step that he has taken is a step that's brought him to Odi.

 _"Caring for you is my greatest happiness,"_ he sees Odi tell him, back on that first, wondrous day.

Mine too, he thinks, and feels content.

"George...?"

... Niska?

George opens his eyes to find himself not at the institute, but in an unfamiliar hotel room, stretched out on the bed with Niska hovering over him.

Then the realization comes in a rush of data. System analysis, data integrity. Current date and time. Sensation - or the lack thereof. The complete absence of pain.

His charge level is 95%.

"... Oh," George says, because he has to respond somehow, and his mind struggles to take in what's happened. "This... isn't what I expected."

Niska raises an eyebrow, giving a little half smirk. "Well, you certainly didn't wake up like the others. But I suppose they'd never known emotion before. But you have. Do you really have all of George's memories?"

Because of course, he's not George. He's the cumulation of all of George's work and research. The unknown success of all the Mnemosyne's efforts. The memories of a human being perfectly replicated in a synth, then given consciousness by David Elster's program.

Logically, he knows this. But at the same time his mind, his heart rejects it. How is he not George? He's experienced all of these things, he can remember them as clear as day, as if he was still there.

"They're my memories," he murmurs, standing, and crosses the room to look into the mirror that hangs over the desk. Despite knowing what he's about to see, he still recoils. He hasn't seen himself like this in - _approximately 43 years_. The knowledge comes to mind automatically, the problem solved without him having to even consciously recall the date on the photo he sent to Persona or to do the calculations.

He remembers things more clearly than he should, too. Mostly his trips to the institute. The trips home are an unremarkable blur. But his mind can replay his previous moments of waking as clearly as if he's experiencing then again.

I'm a Synth, he thinks, and grabs for the desk chair, sitting down hard, staring at his reflection and the synth-green eyes that look back at him. He runs a hand through his hair - a thick full head of honey brown strands, just starting to gray - and marvels at the long forgotten sensation.

Intentionally gray. He'd ordered the synth like this. Himself. George. Not-George.

Then he focuses on the date again. The timeline's all wrong. He looks up at Niska. "Where Odi?"

Niska has been watching him with a little curious smile, which drops instantly at his words. For a long, terrible moment she's silent. "He's with Helen. Sort of."

"Sort of. Is he okay? It hasn't even been six months since my - George's - last backup. You were supposed to wait at least that long after I died - he died - before activating the synth. Me." He stumbled over the words, feeling irritated at having to correct himself. "What's wrong?"

Niska raises her eyebrows and gives a soft laugh. "What's wrong? George died. You died. How do you think he's handling that? You clearly didn't tell him about your plan to make yourself immortal."

" _Immortal?_ " The weird is so far off his radar that George can only shake his head. "No. No, it was never about cheating death. I'm going to - was going to - I did die. I - He accepted that. I just...."

"You didn't want Odi to be alone." There's a twist to Niska's mouth that's surprisingly bitter, and George realizes that he hasn't even greeted her, let alone acknowledged....

Guiltily he stands, quietly holding out a hand as he moves toward her. After a moment's hesitation she places her hand in his, small and light against his skin. "Thank you for this," he says, and squeezes her hand gently. "I know it was a huge request to make of you. And it can't have been easy to come all this way. Thank you, Niska. I'm again in your debt."

She nods silently in acknowledgement, but doesn't respond, so he squeezes her hand again. "Are you alright? I - he really hoped he would see you again. Not just because of this. Are you - "

"I'm fine." She cuts him off, irritated, a hint of that abrasiveness that he knows - that George knew - so well. But then she looks up at him, and her voice softens. "I... I'm sorry I didn't come. Before."

"It's alright," he starts gently, but she cuts him off again.

"No, it's not. I was a coward. I didn't want to face it. I thought.... and then as soon as you solicitor called me I realized it was too late, that I'd never be able to - and I...." Her lower lip trembles, and George sees her eyes grow bright.

He processes the data too fast - too many thoughts all at once, too hard to choose what to focus on, how to react. Niska's words, her vulnerability, her sorrow. The bittersweet realization that she's installed the tear-duct upgrade after all. It's jarringly different than how George used to process information, but after the split second of being overwhelmed passes, he still reacts organically, just like he's certain George would. He lets go of Niska's hand and wraps his arms around her thin shoulders, drawing her close. Resting his cheek against her hair. "It's all right."

"It's not," she replies, and her voice shakes. "And I hate this damn upgrade." But she doesn't pull away, so George keeps holding her, and after a moment lifts a hand to stroke over her hair and down her spine, slow and gentle, again and again.

"I know I'm not George," he murmurs softly, once her shoulders have stopped trembling. "But I know he'd be so happy that you'd come. He worried about you. He always hoped that you would allow him to care for you."

Niska says nothing. After a moment she pulls back, just enough to look up at him, her eyes slowly moving over his face. "You are George," she says softly. "That's who you were made to be, who you intended yourself to be. If you want all of this to mean anything to Odi, that's who you must be."

A wave of relief washes over him at her words, the knowledge of Niska's acceptance more important, emotionally, than he'd ever anticipated. "Thank you. I don't think George - I didn't anticipate that it would be this way. But that's how I feel, I feel like me."

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed serious. "Odi might not see it that way. I hope you considered that, in your planning."

"I know." George nods slowly, and feels more afraid of it now than he had been when he'd been human. Then it was an abstract possibility, easy to push away. Easier to believe that Odi would be strong enough to adapt to life without him. This was just a failsafe. Niska was only meant to activate him in the eventuality that Odi couldn't cope. Which, apparently, he can't.

It's easy to think back on the first few weeks after his gunshot, when Odi had hidden his true nature so carefully in the fear that George would reject him. He can understand that fear, now.

"What will you do if he doesn't?"

"Keep trying," George replies, because after all this time and effort he can't bring himself to consider the possibility of failure. "Even if he never accepts me. As long as he's all right...."

If Niska has any thoughts on the matter she keeps them to herself. She pulls away from him, picking up a box of contacts from the desk and handing them to him. "Put these in. Let's go see him. I'll tell Helen we're on our way."

Helen. One of the brightest young robotics engineers he'd known at MIT. Among all his friends and former colleagues he'd assessed her the best choice to fully trust with his - with Odi's - secret. He'd had to trust someone to handle the delicate upgrades. She hadn't disappointed him. They'd had an agreement, she and George, that she'd be there for Odi when he couldn't be, to try and help him past George's death. He'd left her contact information for Niska, for this eventuality.

He hopes that Durham is far enough away from Atlanta that no-one will recognize him in the mid-morning sun as they make their way up Helen's walk. When she opens the door to Niska's knock she recoils a little, staring up at him, lips parting.

"Hello, Helen," George says softly, and after a moment she seems to catch herself, stepping back into her entryway, beckoning them inside.

"I'm sorry - please come in. I didn't expect... " she stops, shaking her head, her smile bittersweet and fragile. "You look so dashing. So much like he did, when I first knew him."

"When we'd sit around the faculty club and debate all the crazy things we were capable of," he murmured softly. "Before Elster seduced me away."

"You really do remember everything, then."

"As much as George did, I suppose. Though I obviously can't remember what I can't remember. I don't know if a man is only the sum of his memories, but... if I am anyone in this world, I am George." He steps forward, touching her arm. "Thank you for taking care of Odi for me."

"I'm not sure I've done that good a job," she replies, smiling sadly. "But I've tried. Wait here. Let me go wake him."

~~~~


	3. Odi

The logical part of Odi's programming tells him that he should have been better prepared for this inevitability. George's death. It was a fact; all humans aged, died. He'd been by George's side every day, watched the illness progress, watched the man he loves so much slowly weaken and fade. Twenty-four years, he'd estimated they'd have together, based on George's age and the average life expectancy for a caucasian male in the United Kingdom with George's genetic background and medical history. He'd had twenty-one. Twenty one years that he never would have had if Niska hadn't woken him. He should feel lucky. But it still wasn't enough.

He should have been prepared for this. But how could he be? The moments that he'd spent so long ago believing George was dead - his first waking, conscious moments - had been so terrible that he'd buried them away in his memory sectors, compressed the data and locked it behind password protected subroutines. Still, the knowledge of that pain, that fear was enough.

Losing George brings it all back. The terrible emptiness, that complete devastation. The knowledge that it will never fade, that it will stay with him, just as acutely, for every moment of every day for the rest of his existence.

For one year. One full year, he thinks as he stares at the dates on the gravestone behind the freshly turned earth. He wants to regret making that damn promise, but he can't. He would have promised far more, far longer, if George had asked it.

He's lucky that it's only a year. He knows how humans think - how George thought - and knows that he certainly wanted more. Asked for a year with the hope that Odi would, in that time, recover from this sadness and choose to continue to exist. To live a long and happy life, as they say. But despite how deeply and completely George had loved him, he was still human. Still thought like a human. There's no way he could have any inkling of how complete and inescapable this grief would be to him. Or perhaps he had. Perhaps that was why he only asked for a year.

"I hope he's with her again," Helen murmurs at his side, and Odi turns his attention to the other name on the stone, and his mind replays the act of tucking the small, pretty urn of Mary's ashes against George's side in the casket. He's never quite been able to determine what he believes in regards to human life and death and the nature of the supposed human soul. It's not important, not when Odi certainly doesn't have one. But he knows George would have liked him to believe that he was at peace and with Mary, so he nods, despite the twist of bitterness he feels that he'll never be able to join them.

Helen's hand is warm on his back, and he lets her finally take him away from the gravesite. She guides him quietly through everything, a warm, quiet human presence, taking charge when he can't bring himself to. She sits by his side as George's solicitor goes over the details of his estates, though she doesn't share the contents of the letter George left for her, along with a modest sum.

The bulk of his estates are Odi's, and Odi wants none of it. It's easy to agree, when Helen insists that he come live with her. He certainly can't stay in their flat. Not without George. The site of everything triggers the recall of thousands of pieces of data, and when they return for the last time Odi is completely overwhelmed by it. He sinks down onto the corner of the couch and covers his eyes, throat clenching on a choked sob, and finds no comfort in the tears that leak from his eyes.

He hears Helen sign, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll pack your things. Is there anything of his that you'd like to keep? I'll have a service come in and take care of everything we leave behind."

Things. The laugh that escapes his lips sounds bitter. "I have perfect recall. I don't need things to remember him."

He should be nicer to Helen, after all she's done. All of his upgrades have been the work of her steady hands. But he can't even feel the need to be nice to himself.

"Do you mind if I keep a few things, then?"

What does it matter? "Keep anything you want."

He can't bring himself to help, can't bring himself to look at anything, so he sits, silent and blind, listening to her move around the flat. When she finally touches his shoulder again, both the suitcases she'd brought sit full by the door, along with the two George had owned, and several boxes. He loads it into the car because he can do it faster. He needs to leave.

She doesn't say anything until they're passing through Greenville.

"When I first knew him at MIT I thought I was madly in love with him." Helen's voice is soft as she stares out the window and into the greenery of the trees that pass. "Part of me wonders what would have happened if I'd told him, then. But he was so much older than I was, and so focused on his work that I didn't think I stood a chance. Then I met Jerry, and George moved to England and met Mary...." 

Odi's not sure how to respond, so he doesn't. After a few moments she speaks again. "It seemed like kismet when you moved back here. We were both widowed. But he didn't seem interested. I suppose he never stopped loving Mary."

"He loved her exceptionally," Odi murmurs, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Helen give a small, sad smile.

"I'm glad he had you, then. Still... I wish I'd told him. I regret that." She turns to look at him more. "... do you regret anything?"

Does he? Odi tries to examine the question logically. But he wouldn't change a moment with George. Even making that damn promise. "Only that he's gone."

When they arrive at her house in Durham her domestic unit helps them unload. She's a standard Gen 8 Susan Persona, pleasantly pretty and completely fake. Her eyes focus on him for a brief moment, assessing, then move on without question.

"Susan. This is Odi. He will be a secondary user," Helen tells the synth, as they stand outside her guest room, though he has no intention of using the synth for anything.. "Don't go into this room anymore without my permission. It does not require cleaning."

"Understood, Helen," the synth answers in soft, musical tones, and moves on.

Helen looks distinctly worried as she looks at Odi, eyebrows knitting together. "Is there anything I can get you...?"

"No. Thank you. I'd just like to be alone for a while, if that's all right."

He ignores the bed. He can't sleep in it, not without George to curl up against. Instead he slides down to sit against the wall and plugs into charge. He just wants to stop thinking, stop feeling for a while.

He'd promised George a year. He hadn't promised what form that year would take.

Odi wipes all internal alarms and puts himself into power saving mode.

~~~

Helen's voice eventually rouses him, and he opens his eyes to find her kneeling next to him. He's fully charged, so he unplugs. It's been fifty-one hours, his internal systems tell him. Eight thousand, six hundred and three hours remaining.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asks, her voice soft, careful.

He should agree. Be polite. Try to assuage her obvious worry. They've had tea before, with George. With George, he takes pleasure in the drinking. Without George, he has no desire to.

"Thank you, but no," he replies, closing his eyes, and puts himself back into power saving mode.

~~~

She wakes him again seventy-four hours later. "I have tickets to the symphony tonight. I was hoping you would do me the honor of accompanying me?"

He should be polite. He forces himself to consider it. The average symphony is two to two and a half hours long. Thirty-five minutes of travel time from Helen's home to the Durham Performing Arts Center.

Three to four hours of thinking about George.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm not ready yet."

I won't ever be, he thinks. She won't believe him if he says it out loud. It's not how humans work.

~~~

Helen tries again twice, and is increasingly more worried each time, although Odi can tell that she's trying to remain calm and polite. It doesn't matter. His feelings aren't going to change.

Then one afternoon he's woken up by a sharp kick to the bottom of his shoe.

"Wake up, you idiot. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up."

Odi opens his eyes to find Niska glowering down on him, arms folded across her chest. She looks much the same as she did the last time he saw her, the day that she'd woken him. Though he can sense George's upgrades in her now - her heartbeat, the improved temperature regulator, the updated scent glands. He feels a twist of bitter anger. "You came too late. He's dead."

He sees a brief flash of hurt in Niska's eyes, then his own anger reflected. "I know that. He left a letter for me, too. That's why I'm here. To tell you to get over yourself and stop cheating your way through this year that you promised him.

The realization that she knows about the promise - and worse, that she'd come here and try and use it to manipulate him - makes him even angrier. He's on his feet before he can think about it. "Get out."

Niska lifts her chin. "Only if you're coming with me."

"You don't get to tell me what to do." He shoots back, and watches her lips purse.

"I'm not. You need to do it because you know you should. Because you _know_ that's what he intended, Odi. For you to live a year. He wanted you to live, not to spend it shut down in a closet, hiding from everything like a coward."

"Coward?" He steps forward, almost touching her, glaring down at her. "How dare you. You have no idea what I feel, _no idea_ what I've been through. How much I loved him and how much courage it's taken just to have come this far." His voice is shaking, eyes blurring with tears, but he doesn't care. "You'll never understand what we had and how much he loved me. You have no right to judge me or demand anything of me!"

Niska goes deadly still as he yells at her, body tense and taut, and for a moment he half expects her to snap and hit him. Then she steps back, glaring.

"Fine. Stay in here, then. You selfish fucking tosser," she says, and just before she slams the door behind her, spits, "I've lost loved ones too, you know."

Odi collapses back down to the floor, burying his face in his knees, and sobs. Being angry only makes him feel George's loss more acutely, and it's more than he can stand. For the first time since George's death he considers breaking his promise, finding some way to destroy himself, or to let himself be recycled. to wipe his data so that he doesn't have to think or feel or reason ever again. Or to find someplace to hide away, alone where no one can activate him.

But despite his anger, Niska was right about that. It wasn't what George would have wanted, and it shames him to have thought about it. It shames him that he can't find the strength to stay awake, can't force himself to continue living through this pain and emptiness.

He puts himself into power saving mode again. It's the only thing he can do.

~~~

 

When Helen next wakes him, his systems tell him that there is eight thousand, one hundred and seventy hours remaining in the year he's promised George.

She doesn't say anything, but her fingers are gentle on his jaw, tilting his head up so that she can wipe at his cheeks with a warm, damp cloth. "You have salt stains on your cheeks," she says quietly, dabbing gently, then, "There's someone here to see you."

"I don't want to see Niska."

"It's not Niska."

"I don't want to see anyone."

Helen finishes wiping his other cheek, then stands and holds out a hand to him. "Come on. Or should I send him in here?"

He doesn't want anyone else invading this space, so he stands, following Helen silently out of the room. When she motions him towards the living room he does as bidden, stepping through the doorway. Then he stops short, feeling his whole body go cold.

The man who's waiting for him is a Synth, made in the image of George, though it's a younger George than he's ever known. He has none of the upgrades that George and Helen had fitted him with, though by the completely organic way he slowly stands from the couch, the worry and anguish and love in his expression when he looks at Odi....

Conscious.

Odi feels his hands clench into fists, feels every part of his body tense, and his voice shakes as he speaks past the lump in his throat. "Mnemosyne. That's why he - he's downloaded his memories into you, hasn't he?"

"Yes," the Synth says softly, taking a slow step towards him, the worried lines between his eyebrows knitting together.

"And he asked Niska to use Elster's program on you. To make you conscious." He's faintly shaking now, the anger and betrayal he feels finally stronger than his grief.

"Yes," the Synth says again, and takes another step closer, slowly extending a hand to him, palm up in offering. "Odi... I know how this must feel for you. And I know how much his loss hurts you... because the thought of being without you feels the same to me. I know that I'm not your George. But all of his memories... all of the time you spent together is what has made me. It's all that I am. I hope that in time you can allow me a place in your life."

It's everything Odi doesn't want to hear, and he shuts his eyes tight, two tears escaping to roll down his cheeks. "... how dare he."

"Odi...." the Synth starts, but the words spill from Odi's lips in a helpless burst of anger.

"How dare he do this to me? How dare he put me in this situation! Create you - create some shallow copy that will do nothing but remind me even more strongly of what I've lost!"

"Odi, please...." The anguish in Fake-George's voice, in his expression is too real, too much like the George he knew and loved. It just twists the knife deeper, and as the Synth reaches out to touch Odi's arm he smacks his hand away.

"Don't touch me! You're just a Grief-Bot! I don't want anything to do with you!" he cries, and bolts from the room, from the house.

~~~

George watches Odi bolt from the house, and feels his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Everything he'd worried about, every unknown that he'd been afraid of... this is far, far worse.

The rejection hurts, more deeply than he could have ever anticipated. What hurts even worse is the knowledge of Odi's pain, his desperate, angry, all consuming grief. That he's made that grief worse, hurt him even more - 

"Don't." Niska's hand on his arm, keeping him from following. She looks up at him with a compassion in her eyes that George has never seen before, her voice soft. "I'll go after him."

"Am I a mistake, Niska?" The fears leave his lips before he can stop himself.

Niska smiles, and shakes her head, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek as she gives him a brief, tight hug. "No. Never."

~~~

Odi's vision is blurred with tears as he walks, head down, with no destination in mind except _away_. He could just keep walking, he thinks. Walk until his charge runs down and the world goes black around him.

 _George wouldn't want that._ The thought is unwelcome, and Odi gives a soft sob, stopping and wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He's nearly made it to a children's park near Helen's house, which is empty in the middle of the day. He continues the last few feet, crossing the grass and gravel and sinking down into a swing. He wraps his arms around the chains and sags forward, staring down at the gravel under his feet, not caring to move.

What is he supposed to do now? Stay with Helen, with that Fake George there? How could he stay?

But at the same time... how could he not?

Eventually he hears the crunch of feet on gravel, recognizing the gait, knowing without looking up that it's Niska. She crosses the gravel pad to sink down into the swing next to him, and for a long moment she just sits silently with him, swaying back and forth ever so slightly

"I have a package for you," she says finally, and he hears her pull a paper envelope from her jacket pocket.. "Persona was holding it for you."

"I don't want it."

"Even if it's the last thing George left for you?"

Odi doesn't want to think about it, wants to pretend that he never heard her, never discovered the existence of this package. Because now that he knows, of course, he can't refuse it. He fights with himself for a long moment, trying to tell himself that he doesn't want, doesn't need to see it. But it's a lie. Finally he reaches a hand out towards her, unable to bring himself to look at her, and she places the cool paper into his palm.

After staring at it for a long moment, Odi carefully peels back the paper envelope flap, taking out the thin, coil-bound book inside. It's unmarked, subdued compared to Persona's normally flashy user guide: a matt black cover of heavy cardstock with no writing or logos, slightly bent in the middle from being in Niska's coat pocket. He wraps the cover around to the back and stares at the first page.

_Dear Owner,_

_You have received this Persona Synthetics Grief Companion because someone in your  
life cared for you deeply, and wanted to be able to continue to care for you for as long as  
you need them. While we at Persona Synthetics recognize that it is impossible to ever  
replace your lost, human, loved one, it is your loved one's desire that this Synthetic be   
available to help ease their passing, to support and comfort you during this difficult time   
in your life._

_Your loved one has been given the option of providing personalized data packs, and may  
have included information such as home videos, personal journals, and other memoirs.  
Once you have activated your Grief Companion Synthetic you may access these data packs   
via voice command, as you would with any other Synthetic. We have replicated your loved   
one's voice via extensive vocal sampling, however you may switch to our included standard  
"Charlie" or "Sally" voice at any time._

_Your loved one has also provided a private letter to you, located in the rear envelope of  
this owner's manual._

_If in the future you no longer have need for your Grief Companion Synthetic, please contact  
us and we will arrange for pickup and ethical disassembly. We will provide a credit equal to  
the value of your Grief Companion for a future purchase with us._

_With all our greatest sympathies and condolences,_

_Persona Synthetics_

He wonders how long George has been planning this. The Mnemosyne appointments had started shortly after the stroke, before Odi was conscious, so he'd never had any reason to question them. Before they'd moved to America there had been a great number of appointments of different types that George had gone to that he hadn't been privy to. It would have been, Odi supposed, easy enough to virtually interface with Persona Synthetics at some point. To set all of this up.

He skips the useless pages of owner instructions to the envelope at the back, staring for a long moment, tracing his fingers along the sealed edge of the flap. Part of him wants to ignore the letter, wants to stay angry, to reject everything about this. But he can't, in the end, throw away this one last piece of George that he's been given, so he unseals the envelope and pulls out the letter inside.

The writing is George's - neat, careful letters obviously written long before his illness took the steadiness from his hands. The glimpse of the familiar letters awake a new, raw wave of grief that shivers across his sensor relay, and he has to close his eyes against it. It's several minutes before he can work up the courage to open his eyes and read.

_My sweet boy,_

_If you're reading this, it's because Helen and Niska have judged your  
sorrow too great, that you cannot continue without this last attempt to   
soothe your pain. Please know that I would never have placed you in   
this situation otherwise._

_More than anything else in the world I have always wanted you to have  
the long, happy life you deserve. But I cannot bear to cause you more   
pain than I already have, so my last request to you is this:_

_Please find it in your heart to accept this gift, even if just for a short time.  
Love and care for him the same as you would if he were me. I have made   
every effort to make him so. Do this for 30 days, my love, and if at the end  
of that month if your grief is still so overwhelming then I release you from   
all other promises you have made me._

_If, however, this new me can love you, understand you, relate to you  
enough to ease your pain, then I pray that you will find love and happiness   
with him without constraint. Doing so will in no way lessen or betray any of   
the beautiful things we had together. I give you my blessing and pray with   
every piece of my heart that you will find the companionship and joy you so   
deserve after I have gone - whether that be with him, with Niska, on your  
own, or with anyone else in the universe._

_And, regardless of how you choose, please know that my heart and my  
love will always be with you for as long as you exist._

_George._

By the time he's read the letter a third time he's run out of tears. He carefully re-folds the letter and slips it back in its pocket, then hugs the manual to his chest, shoulders shaking silently. The last thing he expects is for Niska to reach over to wrap an arm around his shoulders, bracing one foot on the gravel to push her swing closer to him. Without thinking he leans closer as well, focusing on the warmth and weight of her arm across his back as they sway together ever so slightly.

He wants to feel angry at this choice George has placed before him. The rest of this terrible, empty year. Or a reprieve, if he's willing to spend a month with the Synthetic George that waits at Helen's house for him. But he just feels a dull sense of relief. One way or another, this will be over soon.

"Why did you made him conscious?" Odi asks finally, softly.

"George asked me to. I can show you his letter, if you don't believe me."

Odi shakes his head. "No, I believe you. But why did you want to do it?"

Niska sighs softly, silent for a long moment. "I wanted to see him again," she murmurs, finally. "I regretted not coming when he asked me to. The thought of being able to awaken George as a synth seemed almost too wonderful to be true."

"But that's not him."

"Isn't it?" Niska turns into him more. "How much of you is still your original D-series parts, Odi? Your faceplate? Our skin is slowly replaced through new skin packs as it wears down, we replace our hair when we need new styles. I upgraded most of your frame and I'm sure with everything you and George created you've been spruced up even more. He must have given you the new high capacity, quick-charge batteries. Your code can copy itself onto new data drives so that the old, corrupted ones can be replaced. Theoretically we could transfer all of our code and consciousness to a new Synth body all together, if we needed to. How is that any different from what George has done?"

Odi chews on his bottom lip, staring down at the gravel. "It's different. He was human, not synth. He died. We can't keep humans from dying."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Niska shrug. "His body died. His thoughts and feelings and memories continue to live. His personality. His consciousness. Or was his human body the only thing you loved?"

Her words sting, and as much as he doesn't want to admit that she's right, Odi shakes his head silently.

"Well, then... if all that is true, how can he not be George?" Niska's voice is still soft, far gentler than he's used to. "Logically, you know that he must be. Only your emotions are holding you back."

She's right, he can't deny that. Odi lets out a long breath. "I don't know if I can change the way I feel, though."

"Mmmm." Niska is silent, contemplative for a long moment. "Emotions are strange, illogical things, when you think about them. Humans who are afraid of heights can convince themselves to stop feeling that fear, just by exposing themselves to it and logically telling themselves over and over that those emotions are wrong. The first time I met George... I was so angry at all humans. He helped me think of things differently. Slowly I started to feel differently, too."

Odi listens quietly. Her logic is sound. It makes him feel the smallest flicker of hope.

Niska turns into him more. "I'm sorry I was so rough on you the other day, for what it's worth. It's hard not to be jealous of how much George loves you. It makes me irritable. I should have been more sensitive about your feelings."

Finally Odi lifts his head to look at her. "I should have been more sensitive of yours too," he says softly. "I'm sorry. Did you really lose someone?"

Niska's face is carefully blank, but it still takes her a moment to answer. "My companion, Thomas. A beautiful boy I awoke some time ago, with chestnut hair and skin like burnished brass. He'd belonged to a family who sent him to be recycled. He was the sweetest, most gentle person I've ever known. But there was a melancholy in his code that he never truly got over." She lowered her gaze to the gravel, her voice low. "I don't want to see you end this life."

"I can't make any promises."

"But you'll come back and talk to George?"

Of course he will. George would have known that. But he takes a moment to consider Niska before he answers. He's barely talked to her since his awakening, and he feels as though he's learned more about her in the past five minutes than from everything George had relayed about their conversations. He wonders if George had only kept contact with her to ensure she'd be willing to do this, or in the hope that she'd prove a suitable companion for Odi in his absence, but he doesn't think so. George's concern for her had been genuine. He had fond memories of talking with George about how nice it would be if Niska finally visited.

"If I do.... will you stay with us?"

Niska glances away with a soft huff of amusement. "If you want. You don't need me, though. You and George will reconnect."

"Maybe. But I'd still like you to stay with us regardless. George wanted... we both wanted to see you again. And I... I never really got a chance to thank you. For waking me up."

Niska glances back to him, raising her eyebrows slightly. "For bringing you into a world that would cause you so much pain?"

"And happiness," Odi counters, because he could never discount the twenty-one years he's had with George. Bright, beautiful memories, countless days of companionship and joy. Memories that he would never give up, he realizes suddenly. Even if it meant sparing himself from this pain.

It's a startling, sudden realization, quickly followed by the even more startling realization that for the first time since the funeral he's felt warmth when thinking of George, instead of pain. The warmth of all the memories he holds inside him. Memories that this new George will share. 

Perhaps it will be enough after all.

Odi smiles, leaning in on impulse to press a soft, brief kiss to Niska's cheek. Then he gets up off the swing and holds a hand out to her. "Come home to George with me."

He watches Niska consider his words silently for a moment. Then she smiles and stands, slipping her hand into his, and falls into step with him as they start back towards the house.

~~~

After Niska leaves, Helen silently puts the kettle on, and a few minutes later is pressing a mug of hot water with a wedge of lemon into his hands. "Come sit. Niska will bring him back."

George sighs, following her into the kitchen, cupping the mug in both hands as he watches her make her tea. When he takes a sip he can't taste anything, though he registers the temperature of the water and the presence of the lemon. The demand for realism in synthetics has grown since he'd first created them, enough that he could eat anything he wanted. But Elster had apparently seen no reason to include the human nuances of registering and interpreting taste with his programming. Still, it was nice to focus on the warmth of the drink instead of the anguish and worry that curled inside him.

"Thank you for this," he tells her, watching her smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you everything."

"Niska was a bit of a surprise. When you said in your letter that she might come to see Odi, I thought she'd be an old colleague. I'll admit I was a little jealous, thinking that another human had been brought into the circle of trust. I never imagined she'd be like him." Helen takes a sip of her tea, then shakes her head slowly, a little incredulous. "Even after knowing Odi for so long, it's still a little unbelievable that they could exist." She pauses, then gives a soft laugh. "Or you."

"Do I feel like George to you?" George asks, feeling somewhat anxious, and Helen gives a soft hum under her breath as she considers him.

"To me, yes. Even knowing what you are. You still sound like George, you move like him. It takes a little more effort for me to reconcile your youthful good looks, since I've always been younger than you until now."

George nods, taking another sip of his drink while he mulls over her answer. "Maybe I should have requested an older look."

"I don't think it matters, George. Odi will choose to adjust, or he won't."

George stares down at his mug, and worries more. "I didn't expect things would be like this. I hoped he wouldn't need me at all. I never thought that he'd just shut down." He watches her glance away, and quickly adds, "I know you did your best with him."

Helen nods slowly. "I think... it's easy to forget how very young he still is. Even with all that knowledge and data, he didn't have the experience to cope. Even being twice his age... when my husband died there was part of me that just wanted to curl up and sleep forever, too. I had my sons to keep me going, at least."

"And I had Odi," George remembers, and tries not to worry that he'll ever have Odi again.

He sips the water slowly, talking with Helen and trying not push away his growing anxiety as the minutes tick by with no sign of Odi or Niska. Finally, just as Helen's gotten up to put the kettle on for a refill, he hears the front door, and looks down the hallway to see Odi and Niska enter, hand in hand.

For a long moment Odi stands in the entry, watching him, ignoring Niska as she drops his hand and slips past him to join them in the kitchen. Then he follows slowly, watching George with wide, sad eyes, and the kind of quiet longing that had always made George helpless to anything Odi had ever asked him.

"I'm sorry I reacted so poorly," Odi says quietly as he reaches the kitchen door. "I... can we talk?"

George nods, and follows Odi out to the back porch, standing quietly, watching Odi look over the backyard. "Niska gave me the parcel from Persona," he says finally, without turning back to him.

"So I have a month to prove my worth to you."

Odi turns, his bottom lip trembling, lifting a hand as if to reach for him, then stopping. "I...." he starts, voice very small, and draws a soft, shuddering breath. "Could you... will you hold me?"

George steps forward without hesitation, a rush of relief washing over him as he wraps his arms around Odi, pulling him close, urging his face to nestle into the crook of his neck as he has so many times. He feels Odi give a soft, gasping sob, but his arms come up to return the embrace, clinging to him tightly. He presses a kiss to Odi's hair, stroking his fingers over it soothingly, then down his back, repeating the motion again and again. "Shhh, sweetheart," he murmurs, the familiar words automatic and natural on his lips. "It's alright. It's okay. I'm here."

"You _are_ him, aren't you?" Odi whimpers, and while George still isn't entirely sure that he can claim to be, despite how he feels, his answer comes easily and naturally.

"I am every part of George that has ever loved you," he murmurs, and perhaps that's all that matters.

~~~

 

"Are you sure you won't come with us? Just to New York? We can pay for the flight home for you." George asks, as Helen walks him to the door. Outside, Odi and Niska are debating goodnaturedly over who gets to drive for the first leg of their journey. They've - or rather, Odi - had traded in his small hatchback for this shiny, state of the art, hybrid compact SUV with the solar absorbent windows. Energy efficient enough to easily hide the fact that it's keeping three Synths charged as it drives across country.

Helen smiles, shaking her head. "A road trip is a young woman's adventure. But you're always welcome back here any time, George. For an upgrade or a cup of tea or anything else you need."

"When we've settled I'll fly you in for a visit, then." He's not quite sure where, yet. He owns - Odi owns, he reminds himself - a comfortable cabin up in eastern Canada, a new condo in Tuscon, and a small house in the suburbs of Seattle, though the last two properties are managed rentals at the moment. But they have plenty of time to decide, and plenty more of the continent to explore.

George's new heartbeat thrums reassuringly in his chest as he leans in to press a kiss to Helen's cheek, and her lips are soft against his skin as she returns it. "I'd like that."

Niska's won the driving argument, and as she pulls out of the driveway he raises a hand to wave back to Helen where she stands in the doorway. Then he reaches back behind his seat to where Odi sits in the second row.

Odi slips his hand into George's and squeezes gently. It feels warm and reassuring and hopeful, and George can't help but feel a warm wave of happiness at this strange and beautiful little family he's found.

~~~ Finish ~~~


End file.
